ASSEMBLY OF THE PEOPLE OF ITHACA—SPEECHES OF TELEMACHUS AND OF THE

SUITORS—TELEMACHUS MAKES HIS PREPARATIONS AND STARTS FOR PYLOS WITH

MINERVA DISGUISED AS MENTOR.





Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared Telemachus

rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet,

girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like an

immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in

assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then,

when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in

hand—not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva endowed him

with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as

he went by, and when he took his place in his father’s seat even the

oldest councillors made way for him.



Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was

the first to speak. His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius,

land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they

were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him.17

He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s

land, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless

their father could not get over the loss of Antiphus, and was still

weeping for him when he began his speech.



“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day Ulysses left us

there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then can it

be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? Has

he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or

would he speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is

an excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s

desire.”



Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he

was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the

assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then,

turning to Aegyptius, “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly

learn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I

have not got wind of any host approaching about which I would warn you,

nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak. My

grievance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which

have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of my

excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and was

like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious, and

ere long will be the utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all the chief

men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against her will.

They are afraid to go to her father Icarius, asking him to choose the

one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, but

day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house, sacrificing our

oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much

as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand

such recklessness; we have now no Ulysses to ward off harm from our

doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my days

be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had

power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house

is being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own

consciences and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath of heaven, lest

the gods should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Jove and

Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [do not] hold

back, my friends, and leave me singlehanded18—unless it be that my

brave father Ulysses did some wrong to the Achaeans which you would now

avenge on me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am

to be eaten out of house and home at all, I had rather you did the

eating yourselves, for I could then take action against you to some

purpose, and serve you with notices from house to house till I got paid

in full, whereas now I have no remedy.”19



With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into

tears. Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no

one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinous, who spoke

thus:



“Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw

the blame upon us suitors? It is your mother’s fault not ours, for she

is a very artful woman. This three years past, and close on four, she

had been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us,

and sending him messages without meaning one word of what she says. And

then there was that other trick she played us. She set up a great

tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an enormous piece of

fine needlework. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead,

still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait—for I would not

have skill in needlework perish unrecorded—till I have completed a pall

for the hero Laertes, to be in readiness against the time when death

shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk

if he is laid out without a pall.’



“This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her

working on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick

the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three

years and we never found her out, but as time wore on and she was now

in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told

us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to

finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you

this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand—‘Send your

mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her father’s

choice’; for I do not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us

much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score of the

accomplishments Minerva has taught her, and because she is so clever.

We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about Tyro, Alcmena,

Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing to your

mother any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in that way,

and as long as she continues in the mind with which heaven has now

endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate; and I do not

see why she should change, for she gets all the honour and glory, and

it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will not

go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her

choice and married some one or other of us.”



Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who bore me

from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know whether

he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Icarius the

large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter

back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but heaven will

also punish me; for my mother when she leaves the house will call on

the Erinyes to avenge her; besides, it would not be a creditable thing

to do, and I will have nothing to say to it. If you choose to take

offence at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere at one another’s

houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If, on the other hand, you

elect to persist in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove

shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father’s house

there shall be no man to avenge you.”



As he spoke Jove sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they

flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own lordly

flight. When they were right over the middle of the assembly they

wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring

death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely

and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right over the

town. The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each other what

all this might be; whereon Halitherses, who was the best prophet and

reader of omens among them, spoke to them plainly and in all honesty,

saying:



“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors,

for I see mischief brewing for them. Ulysses is not going to be away

much longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and

destruction, not on them alone, but on many another of us who live in

Ithaca. Let us then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness

before he comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be

better for them, for I am not prophesying without due knowledge;

everything has happened to Ulysses as I foretold when the Argives set

out for Troy, and he with them. I said that after going through much

hardship and losing all his men he should come home again in the

twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now all this is

coming true.”



Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy to

your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens

myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the

sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Ulysses has

died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with

him, instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel to the anger

of Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he

will give you something for your family, but I tell you—and it shall

surely be—when an old man like you, who should know better, talks a

young one over till he becomes troublesome, in the first place his

young friend will only fare so much the worse—he will take nothing by

it, for the suitors will prevent this—and in the next, we will lay a

heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you will at all like paying, for

it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemachus, I warn him in the

presence of you all to send his mother back to her father, who will

find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so dear

a daughter may expect. Till then we shall go on harassing him with our

suit; for we fear no man, and care neither for him, with all his fine

speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much

as you please, but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back

and continue to eat up Telemachus’s estate without paying him, till

such time as his mother leaves off tormenting us by keeping us day

after day on the tiptoe of expectation, each vying with the other in

his suit for a prize of such rare perfection. Besides we cannot go

after the other women whom we should marry in due course, but for the

way in which she treats us.”



Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I shall say

no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of

Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty

men to take me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos

in quest of my father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell

me something, or (and people often hear things in this way) some

heaven-sent message may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and on

his way home I will put up with the waste you suitors will make for yet

another twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of his death, I will

return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a

barrow to his memory, and make my mother marry again.”



With these words he sat down, and Mentor20 who had been a friend of

Ulysses, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority

over the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty

addressed them thus:



“Hear me, men of Ithaca, I hope that you may never have a kind and

well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I

hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for

there is not one of you but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you as

though he were your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors,

for if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their hearts,

and wager their heads that Ulysses will not return, they can take the

high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked at

the way in which you all sit still without even trying to stop such

scandalous goings on—which you could do if you chose, for you are many

and they are few.”



Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly is

all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing

for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Ulysses

himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do

his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would

have small cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon his own

head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense in what

you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about your

business, and let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses,

speed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all—which I do not think

he will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes

and tells him something.”



On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own

abode, while the suitors returned to the house of Ulysses.



Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the

grey waves, and prayed to Minerva.



“Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me

sail the seas in search of my father who has so long been missing. I

would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked

suitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so.”



As he thus prayed, Minerva came close up to him in the likeness and

with the voice of Mentor. “Telemachus,” said she, “if you are made of

the same stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward

henceforward, for Ulysses never broke his word nor left his work half

done. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless,

but unless you have the blood of Ulysses and of Penelope in your veins

I see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as

their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as you are

not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not

entirely without some share of your father’s wise discernment, I look

with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never make common cause

with any of those foolish suitors, for they have neither sense nor

virtue, and give no thought to death and to the doom that will shortly

fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on the same day.

As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your father was such

an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will come with

you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among the suitors;

begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything well

stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of

life, in leathern bags, while I go round the town and beat up

volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I

will run my eye over them for you and will choose the best; we will get

her ready and will put out to sea without delay.”



Thus spoke Minerva daughter of Jove, and Telemachus lost no time in

doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily home, and found the

suitors flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinous

came up to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own,

saying, “Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither

in word nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The

Achaeans will find you in everything—a ship and a picked crew to

boot—so that you can set sail for Pylos at once and get news of your

noble father.”



“Antinous,” answered Telemachus, “I cannot eat in peace, nor take

pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that

you should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy?

Now that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and

whether here among this people, or by going to Pylos, I will do you all

the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain—though,

thanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must

be passenger not captain.”



As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinous. Meanwhile the

others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings,21 jeering at

him tauntingly as they did so.



“Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I

suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or again

from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as

well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?”



Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be

like his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should

have plenty to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst us:

as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries her have

that.”



This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty and

spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze lay

heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were

kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive

oil, while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god

to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Ulysses should come home

again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors opening in

the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Euryclea, daughter

of Ops the son of Pisenor, was in charge of everything both night and

day. Telemachus called her to the store-room and said:



“Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you are

keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should

escape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve

jars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn

leathern bags with barley meal—about twenty measures in all. Get these

things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will take

everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for

the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos to see if I can hear

anything about the return of my dear father.”



When Euryclea heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him,

saying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into

your head? Where in the world do you want to go to—you, who are the one

hope of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign

country nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these

wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and

will share all your possessions among themselves; stay where you are

among your own people, and do not go wandering and worrying your life

out on the barren ocean.”



“Fear not, nurse,” answered Telemachus, “my scheme is not without

heaven’s sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this

to my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless she

hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil

her beauty by crying.”



The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she had

completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, and

getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back to

the suitors.



Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. She took his shape, and

went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet at

the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronius, and asked

him to let her have a ship—which he was very ready to do. When the sun

had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the

water, put all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and

stationed her at the end of the harbour. Presently the crew came up,

and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.



Furthermore she went to the house of Ulysses, and threw the suitors

into a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made

them drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over

their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes

heavy and full of drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice of

Mentor, and called Telemachus to come outside.



“Telemachus,” said she, “the men are on board and at their oars,

waiting for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.”



On this she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When

they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and

Telemachus said, “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they

are all put together in the cloister, and my mother does not know

anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”



With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When

they had brought the things as he told them, Telemachus went on board,

Minerva going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the

vessel, while Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the

hawsers and took their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a fair

wind from the West,22 that whistled over the deep blue waves23 whereon

Telemachus told them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and

they did as he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross

plank, raised it, and made it fast with the forestays; then they

hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox hide. As the

sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep blue

water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then

they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing bowls to the

brim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from

everlasting, but more particularly to the grey-eyed daughter of Jove.



Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night

from dark till dawn.